


Parlez-vous Winchester?

by Morgana



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Food Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 11:22:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgana/pseuds/Morgana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean have their own language</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parlez-vous Winchester?

Before he ever understood English, Sam spoke Winchester. It was his first language, his mother tongue, and no matter how much exposure he'd had to the world outside, it was still his lingua franca, the one he felt most comfortable with. It was a language composed of grunts and half-formed sentences, but the sounds weren't important.  
  
No, what mattered in Winchester was what  _wasn't_  said. Theirs was a tongue where coffee meant 'I'm sorry' and burgers meant 'I'm proud of you' and pie.. Pie meant everything. It was sympathy, commendation, appeasement, connection, and love. Most of all, pie was love.  
  
And tonight, it was something else entirely. "Dude, just so you know, you're totally twisted," Sam gasped, shuddering as a sticky hand stroked down the length of his cock. "And you're washing the sheets tomorrow, too."  
  
"I'm good with that," Dean assured him smirking up at him as he swiped a dollop of whipped cream from the edge and smeared it over Sam's nipples. He chuckled when they hardened at the contact. "Looks like at least part of you's on board with this, Sammy. Did I hit a hidden kink?"  
  
"Screw you." Which was Winchester for 'yes, but I'll never admit it' and Dean's laugh said that he knew it, too. He lowered his head to lap at the whipped cream, his tongue wet and rough as it stroked over Sam's flesh. Sam moaned and tugged at the ties that bound him to the headboard, but Dean had learned how to tie knots from the same person he had - hell, Dean had taught him most of what he knew - and they didn't give an inch.  
  
"Aw, c'mon, Sammy, you know you love it." Dean sucked one nipple clean, scraped his teeth over it, then moved on to the next while Sam writhed beneath him. "Something you need, baby boy?"  
  
"God, Dean, c'mon," he ground out. "Fucking do it, man!" He bucked up as Dean reached for more pie, dragging his fingers through the sticky substance, which he smeared over the underside of Sam's dick.  
  
Dean pinched a nipple, grinning at the sound Sam let out in response. "Can't rush a masterpiece." Which meant Dean was planning on sucking him til he screamed. Not that Sam objected, of course. Although the pie was something new.  
  
Sam groaned when Dean swirled two fingers coated in pie filling around the tip of his dick. "Deeeaaaan," he whined, automatically falling back into the tone of voice that had never failed to get him what he wanted.  
  
Including now. As though that was what he'd been waiting for, Dean lowered his head and took him in deep with one motion. Sam's shout echoed off the walls of the small motel room, mingling with his brother's muffled moan as Dean started sucking him. He didn't tease anymore, didn't lick or nuzzle or taunt, not with how desperate he could feel Sam was for it. Instead, he swallowed him down, sucking the pie filling off until only the taste of Sam remained - hot and sticky and salty and perfect.  
  
It didn't take long for Sam to come, shooting in hot bursts down Dean's throat, and Dean decided that pumpkin pie went  _great_ with Sammy. He swallowed every last bit and licked his lips as he surfaced. "Awesome, dude," he told him, grinning at the blissed-out look on his brother's face. And they still had four other pies waiting for them. He wondered if Sam would taste better with apple or boysenberry.


End file.
